


Sing Me Your Song, Baby Boy

by Babythe67Impala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Comforting Dean, Cuddling, Dean is Twenty, First Time Writing Wincest/Weecest, First time writing fluff, Fluff, Hurting Sam, Incest, M/M, Neck Kissing, No Sex, One Shot That Could Turn Into More if You Want it, Rated Mature because of Incest, Sad Sam, Sam is sixteen, Singing, Sorrow, cuteness, sweet nothings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babythe67Impala/pseuds/Babythe67Impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam sings all of the time when he thinks no one's listening, little does he know that his big brother, Dean, is his biggest fan. </p><p>Sam after a hunt-gone-wrong and is feeling really shitty about it. Dean comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing Me Your Song, Baby Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Wincest or Weecest, so... yeah. On top of that, this is my first time writing anything completely fluffy. Don't usually read it, myself, but I felt really inspired to after listening to "Hey Jude" by The Beatles (which that song it going to be included in this story, just to let you know... well, I guess, the only song that's really included in this). Excuse any mistakes, I literally typed this up in a few minutes just this morning (the day I published it) before I got busy and stuff, haha.

_"Hey, Jude,"_

_Don't make it bad,"_

 

Sammy could sing so pretty. Dean had known this for the longest time. The thing that bugged him was the only time Sam would ever sing was when he thought he was alone or otherwise not being listened to. The first time Dean had caught Sam singing was in the shower one day when he was twelve and Dean was sixteen. Dean had been about to start pounding on the door, needing to get in there before his little brother used up all the hot water like he normally did, but the voice stopped him. Startled him, even. When did Sam get a pair of lungs like _that_? 

 

_"Take a sad song,_

_and make it better,"_

 

As Sam got older, Dean noticed his voice getting deeper, all thanks to puberty. Then he went through a rough patch when he was thirteen and on into him turning fourteen. His voice would crack and falter and he'd give up a few lines into whatever song he was singing. Dean loved it regardless and appreciated every off-key note and cracked syllable. Fucking loved the gruffness to it's undertone every time he'd try to hit a note lower than his normal tone. 

 

_"Remember,_

_to let her into your heart,"_

 

Then it got better when he was fifteen and unbelievable by the time he was sixteen. The deepness of his tone making every single song he sang sound _richer_. 

Dean came home from scoping out a bar for any potential one night stands, but came home with nothing (home? more like the motel they were staying at while their dad was off doing what he did best; going off to hunt alone and leave his sons to fend from themselves). He stopped outside of the door when he heard Sam singing. It was soft and somber, and his voice was gruffer than the last time he remembered hearing Sam sing. That's when he realized that his voice was hoarse. That Sam had been crying. He was always more of a sensitive kid than Dean had ever been, but that wasn't a bad thing. That just meant Sam was still... good. That their shit situation hadn't desensitized him to everything around them. 

It was one of the many things Dean admired about his baby brother. 

A few days prior to this moment, Dean standing outside of the door with his ear pressed against the sticky wood, they had gone on a hunt. It was the easy Salt and Burn type hunt, but even then, a couple of young hunters like Sam and Dean made mistakes. Sam tripped over his own lanky legs and missed a shot to the vengeful spirit, therefore letting it get its' hands on the man they had been trying to save. It wasn't really Sam's fault, what happened an all, but that didn't stop him from beating himself up, no matter how many times Dean said it was all gonna be okay. Sam'd just shake it off and say he's fine when Dean knew damn well he wasn't. Sam still wasn't used to the idea of not being able to save everyone that they came across, everyone in distress-- in need of a hero. 

 

_"Then you can start_

_to make it better,"_

 

Sam sobbed, disrupting the steady, hoarse flow and carry of his beautiful voice. Beautiful like the rest of him. Dean's heart lurched. He wasn't drunk, he didn't have near enough for that, so he was completely level-headed when he finally opened the door and walked in. He wasn't about to pass up this opportunity, to let Sam know exactly how much he loved his voice. How much he didn't want it to stop. That Dean could make it all better. His baby brother didn't need to cry no more. 

Now it was his turn to sing, get that beautiful boy to start singing again, " _Hey, Jude,_ " 

"D-Dean?!" Sam had been curled up on his bed, laying on his side, now he had jerked himself up to where he was sitting, a bewildered, embarrassed look painting his flushed face. The gorgeous, flawlessness (save for a beauty mark on his cheek near the lower left side of his nose, but that made him ten times more gorgeous) face of his baby brother was puffy and red, splotched. His eyes were puffy, too, and the red tint to the whites of his eyes made the green in his hazel eyes stand out. "What--wh-what are you d-doing here? I thought you were going to be o-out for the n-night?" He looked mortified as he ducked his head from Dean's view and wiped his eyes hastily, furiously as if he were trying to rub the red from his face. 

Fuck, the boy was beautiful even when he cried. 

" _Don't be afraid,_ " Dean continued, shutting the door behind him. It was chilly outside and he didn't want Sam to get cold from the draft. " _You were made to go out and get her_ ," 

"Okay, I g-get it, Dean. You caught me, y-you can st-stop poking fun now, _kay_?" Sammy snapped hoarsely, irritability plain in his tone as he averted his gaze after a flushed, glossy-eyes glance at Dean. He crossed his thin arms over his broadening chest. 

Sam thought he was kidding. That Dean didn't absolutely love the hell out of his voice. Dean himself couldn't sing all that well. He was decent, but nothing compared to his baby boy. Fuck, his little brother's vocal cords were handcrafted by God himself and then tuned by the delicate hands of angels. 

" _The minute you let her under your skin,_

 _then you begin to make it better,_ " Dean shed his army green utility jacket and flannel, dropping them at the foot of his own bed as he made his way over to Sam slowly. His emerald hues didn't leave Sam's bloodshot hazel pair. 

"What a-are you doing?" Sam looked confused, but the hurt in his eyes started to soften, like he was starting to understand Dean's intention but his words told the oldest Winchester that he wasn't sure about whether or not to doubt Dean's intentions. If they were genuine or not. 

Dean didn't reply. He merely continued sauntering thoughtfully over to his baby brother, toeing off his boots on the way. 

" _And **anytime** you feel the pain_ ," Dean's voice was soft, reassuring and he was now right beside the bed with a comforting hand tenderly pushing at Sam's upright back, encouraging him to scoot forward as it slid down the curve of Sam's body to the small of his back. Sam hesitantly complied wordlessly, allowing for Dean to slip behind him, filling the space between Sam's back and the headboard of the bed. Dean's arms wrapped around his little brother's thin waist and pulled Sam's back flush against his chest. " _Hey Jude! Refrain_ ," Dean sang in a whisper near Sam's ear, allowing an innocent touch of his lips against the soft skin of his ear. 

Sam tensed at that, but Dean only held him tighter, wrapped his arms around him firmly, to which Sam finally relaxed into Dean. 

" _Don't carry the world upon your shoulders,_ " Dean sang, barely a small breath against the shell of Sam's ear. The oldest Winchester felt a hand run along his arm, and it was Sam. He was searching for something. Dean's hand. He pulled his arm back some and opened up his hand, allowing for Sam to slip his smaller, softer hand in and curled his fingers around Dean's. He sniffled and Dean leaned forward some and pressed a kiss in the space right underneath Sam's ear, then the crook of his neck, neither of which he had ever done before, but Sam eased into him like he had done it a million times. 

Dean continued to hum, lips pressed gently to one place or another along Sam's neck or shoulder. He had to peel back the collar a bit, push it off of Sam's soft shoulder, blotched like his face from the sobs that had once racked his body. On the last verse, Sam started humming along, softly, so much so that Dean could feel the vibrations in his body more then hear the sound. 

Dean hasn't smiled so big and so _genuinely_ in months. 

"Not your fault, Sammy," Dean reassured in a murmur, shutting his eyes as he buried his head in the crook of Sam's neck. 

"I kn... I know," Sam barely managed, Dean giving Sam's hand a small squeeze. 

"I want you to stop beatin' yourself up, 'kay? You couldn't help what happened." Dean awaited a faint nod and a comfortable pause of silence. before going on. "You're beautiful no matter what you do, cryin' or not, but I like it better when you sing," Dean revealed without missing a beat, although his heart did speed up as he spoke. He could feel Sammy's doing the same. 

"Do you--?" Sammy couldn't get it out, but Dean knew what he would have asked. 

It was far too late to go back now, shrug it off and pretend this entire thing was some cruel joke. As if he'd want Sammy to feel even worse-- for Dean to be the reason he's not singing anymore. "I've been listening to you sing for four years now, Sammy. I love your voice," 

"I love _you _, De," Sam spoke softly. They didn't say this to each other a lot, but it was an unspoken and understood. But every time Sam had said it before, it didn't sound like this. Maybe it was because his deepening voice was thick with tears. That his voice was hoarse from crying. Nothing seemed right. But that's when he realized it was the meaning behind it that changed.__

__Dean paused and Sam noticeably tensed in Dean's arms, afraid that he had stepped over a boundary. But Sammy didn't._ _

__"I love you, too, baby boy."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and let me know what you think! Constructive criticism and (definitely) compliments / pointing out what I did well is always welcome!


End file.
